


five times his heart broke (and three times they wouldn't let it)

by Boldly_going_places



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Dog death, F/M, Five and Three, I have no excuses, I'm so sorry for that, Implied abuse, Jim is pansexual, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Multi, Polyamory, Very vague mentions of sex, aro character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 05:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8832205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boldly_going_places/pseuds/Boldly_going_places
Summary: He falls too hard, too fast. He wears his heart like a goddamn pin on his chest, and people are quick to steal and mess with the design. He's quick to let people in, to hand his heart over (hoping that this time, maybe, maybe they'll be kind).





	

**1.**

Jim meets the Andorian in fifth grade. He’s sitting in a cramped, wooden desk, in his little Iowan schoolhouse when she walks in. She smiles widely at the teacher and says hello in her language, then remembers herself and says hello in standard. She’s beautiful. 

Jim offers to show her around, and she follows, asking questions about him, asking about his family, but Jim just diverts, talking about the other kids in class, talking about the radio he’s making, talking about how he lost his first tooth. Talking about anything but his family. 

During recess, they lay on the hill by the school and look up at the clouds (the sky an azure backsplash reflecting her skin), and Jim falls in love when she talks about her hound back home who lays outside her door as she sleeps. 

For a week, Jim’s by the Andorian’s side constantly. He doesn’t know what love feels like, but he knows he’s in love. On Sunday, the Andorian leaves, goes back to Andoria or wherever people you love go to. 

Jim stays in the library during recess and reads about Andorians. He doesn’t go home for a week.

 

**2.**

Jim is fifteen when he meets sixteen year old Kiril. Kiril takes his hand and leads him to the middle of a corn field, where they're hidden from the rest of the world. There’s light beer that Jim is sure from off planet--it’s so weak he can hardly tell it’s beer at all (that being said, he can’t stomach more than a few sips). He knew Kiril before now: the debate team’s three time leader, the boy everybody fawned over, and teachers nodded to in respect. In Jim’s defense, he wasn’t completely taken with Kiril. The singing laugh and gentle words didn’t completely play his heart strings. But Cupid did pull back his bow when Kiril kissed Jim’s knuckles gently.

Cupid shoots the arrow when Kiril first grabs Jim’s hand in the hallway at school. He brings Jim beautiful bouquets of flowers that don't make any sense together (but Jim loves them anyways). Kiril writes him love letters on actual paper, with pressed flowers between the pages, declaring his love and heart--full of cliches, but Jim doesn’t know any better. He runs with the love that he wants to believe is true. 

It’s a week away from homecoming when Jim sees Kiril laughing with another person, his hand finding his way to a shoulder, a back. Kiril’s lips find their way to this stranger’s. Jim doesn’t know diplomacy yet, and his fists are his only logical thought, knuckles hitting a set of cheekbones too high and mighty to think of anybody else.

  
**3.**

Hari doesn’t talk. Xe is mute, and Jim learns sign language just to say hello. Xe is beautiful, xyr dark skin sparkles under the street lamps, and Jim is too afraid to ask if that’s natural for xym or to compliment xyr highlighter. Xe pulls Jim in like a venus fly trap, all sweet smells and syrupy touches, and Jim, oh Jim falls for it. He’s naive and hopeful and lets the words “I love you” slip out of his mouth like silk on glass. He’s too ensnared with Hari to realize xe never says it back, that xe just laughs and pulls him in for another round of kisses. He never notices the hesitation in xyr eyes that says xe will never say it back. 

His brother Sam finds him into three quarters of a bottle of whiskey, his feet have lost grip on the ground, he’s leaning against a tree on the edge of a field. Xe left without a note, without one last sign to say  _ good-bye _ or  _ I’m sorry _ or even  _ fuck off _ . 

Jim leaves Iowa and everything he’s ever known and he wants to believe something horrible happened to Hari (and that’s so selfish, he knows it’s so selfish) that took xym away from him. He drinks in a bar that he’s  _ technically  _ too young to be in and picks a fight with a guy that’s too big for his own good. Jim thinks he sees Hari. He doesn’t go home. 

 

**4.**

Jim tries not to fall in love. Not with her. Her smile is too wide, too fond, too familiar. He’s never met her before, her name two syllables, Gigi. He meets her for a night, a night that gets him tangled in the slopes of her stomach, the gentle stroke of her hands. Her opalescent skin glows in the moonlight. He’s lost track of himself in her. 

He wakes up to a sticky note on his forehead, scrawled on it:  _ sorry, didn’t want to be late for class.  _ A heart and her name scribbled eccentrically at the bottom. Jim forgets the feeling of falling in love, so he doesn’t notice when he does now. And the time...he’s late for work. 

He sees her at a cafe he’s never been to. She’s on her PADD with a cup of something hot in front of her. 

Jim clears his throat. “Sorry, I was just passing by and saw you.” 

“Jim!” Gigi smiles and warmth grows in his chest. “C’mon, I’m working on an analysis of a report on Klingon war strategy, and I want an excuse to not be working on it.” She scoots over and pats the spot next to her on the couch. 

“What class is that for?” Jim asks and plops down next to Gigi, placing his arm across the back of the couch, careful not to touch her, not sure what their boundaries are. 

“It’s with Professor Libunk, Introduction to Klingon Culture. The strategies are historical, so I guess it has to do with the culture? I don’t know, I thought it would be fun,” she said, “but nobody felt the need to tell me Libunk is the most aggravating professor to ever exist.” 

Jim laughs. “The most?”

“The most,” Gigi replies, then breaks down into a fit of laughter. They fall into a lull of silence and Gigi picks her PADD back up. 

Jim sips his hot chocolate and watches Gigi work. When she’s focused, there’s a wrinkle between her eyebrows. Her eyes glow ever so slightly, and Jim wonders what she can see. After a minute of staring at her, Gigi turns to Jim. She bites her lip and sighs. 

“Before we do anything else, Jim, I just need to tell you something,” she says. 

“Oh. What?” 

“I’m aro. I don’t do romantic relationships. I should’ve told you before we did anything,” Gigi said. 

Jim’s heart drops. He looks at Gigi with her iridescent eyes and regretful smile, and he smiles back. 

“Oh. Okay,” Jim says. His heart knocks on his rib cage, as if to remind him it’s still there and it’s gonna shrivel up soon. He understands. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t hurt any less. 

“It’s just who I am. We can be friends, if you want,” Gigi offers. 

Jim smiles. Yeah. He falls too hard, too fast. He takes her offer, her number, her smile, and kind words. He hopes she’s a diplomat one day. She talks kindly.

 

**5.**

Sam calls Jim at three in the morning. He’s all snots and tears. 

“It’s Stan,” Sam says. 

Jim thinks of the great big newfoundland dog that slept with them in the winter nights, that stood guard at their door when Frank drank too much, that ran through the cornfields when Jim wanted to be alone, that was a better parent than any human would’ve been. Stan was fifteen. He was old and sore and it was probably better this way. 

Jim didn’t think he’d ever go back to Iowa, not after Hari, not after Kiril. Stan brings him back. Sam’s waiting at the airport, his face sagged and almost black circles under his eyes. Jim doesn’t say anything. A collar is in Sam’s hand and Jim doesn’t think he can hold himself together. 

“What happened?” Jim asks on their drive to the farmhouse, his voice thin. 

“He was old,” Sam says and shrugs. He doesn’t know any more than Jim does.

Sam doesn’t ask where Jim has been, doesn’t ask how life’s been in general. For his part, Jim doesn’t ask either. 

They don’t go to the farmhouse. They stop at the barn, which is big and empty except for the hay and mice. Stan’s ashes are sitting on a shelf with different tools, and Jim wants to yell at Sam for putting something hallowed on a shelf full of shit, but he keeps his mouth shut. 

“Does mom know?” Jim asks. 

“Yep,” Sam says, but doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t say anything about her whereabouts, doesn’t say why she’s not here to mourn with them. 

Jim and Sam climb up a tree that’s a lot smaller than it used to be and wait for the wind to pick up. It’s 5:30 by the time they’re ready to let go. Jim sobs softly, his heart finding it’s way out of him in small whimpers and a plethora of tears. He doesn’t bother wiping them away. Sam seems to have already let go of his tears, not one shed in the memory of Stan, not now. 

“To the best dog to ever live,” Sam says and he opens the urn. The ashes fly into the cornfields, the sunset. Jim wants to imagine that he sees Stan’s shape in the ashes, but he’s crying too hard to know if he sees anything at all. 

Jim leaves Iowa for good the next day. 

 

**1.**

Jim meets the good doctor on the shuttle to San Francisco. He’s drunk and terrified and cursing off space (and his ex-wife. Which isn’t how well Jim wanted to know him right away. “Left me with nothin’ but my bones.” But that would be a good nickname. Bones). The shuttle takes off and Jim thinks Bones’ fear might just seep into him. Turns out that this Bones guy is kind of a baby, because when Jim ironically offers his hand he finds a calloused one squeezing his so hard it might break (now that...that would be a great feat of irony--a doctor breaking a person’s hand), but Jim doesn’t let go.

Through the swears, oversharing, and near-hand-breaking Jim finds himself drawn to the man. Leonard “Bones” McCoy. That’s how they find themselves in the same apartment as roommates. 

It’s the first time Bones comes to the apartment with a bottle of Georgia brewed whiskey that Jim thinks drinking isn’t that bad (he’s been studying all night for the exam he has in Environmental Studies of Makus III. He thought it would be a breezy class. It’s not). 

A few sips of whiskey is all it takes to get Bones to talk. They’ve known each other a month, but Jim feels like he’s known this guy his whole life--it was probably because of the shuttle encounter, but a little voice in the back of Jim’s heartbroken head says something about “soul mates” (for his part Jim tells it to fuck off). Jim doesn’t say anything about his life, his mom or stepdad or brother or how he’s afraid of how much he likes Bones. Bones’ accent is already thick as mud, a southern drawl reminding Jim of some lovesick damsel and he giggles to himself. Bones raises an eyebrow, but Jim shrugs it off. 

It’s about a month later when they can sit down and sip whiskey together again (between Jim jamming his life full of classes and PT tests and Bones working in the hospital and getting his certification for being a “space doctor”, they don’t have any time. Period.), and Jim walks into the smell of peach cobbler. He nearly moans at thought of home cooked food. He drops his bags in his room and walks back to the kitchenette and places a kiss on Bones’ lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s too tired to notice what he’s done until he realizes Bones is standing in the middle of the room with a tray of hot peach cobbler with a face so red he shames the sunrise. Jim gets up and walks to his room, closes the door and flops down on his bed, completely still. He’s going to give everything a second to catch up with him. 

How stupid. How stupid. A man who’s still getting over a nasty divorce and he jumps on him like that--

“No offense, Jim, but there’s really no point in eating a whole peach cobbler alone,” Bones says through the door. 

So he’s not even going to be left his dignity. Jim gets off his bed and shuffles to the door, opens his mouth to apologize weakly, but he’s silenced by the soft touch of Bones’ lips on his. They don’t talk about it. It’s just a thing now. 

 

**2.**

The Vulcan’s bangs are as straight as the edge of paper. It’s in one of Professor Dandis’ classes that Jim notices this. He finds it extremely endearing. That and the sprinkle of freckles over the Vulcan’s slightly green nose and cheeks. 

At one of the many campus cafeterias, Jim spots the Vulcan again and turns to Uhura and Christine, who’re eating with him. “Who is that?” He asks, gesturing in the general direction of the Vulcan. 

“Hm?” Uhura turns around and sees him. “Oh. That’s Spock. I have History of Standard Linguistics with him.” 

“I’ve heard that he’s on his way to be the first Vulcan commander in a Starfleet ship, under Captain Gigi Hyus,” Christine adds. 

( _ Gigi,  _ Jim thinks,  _ haven’t talked to her in awhile) _

“Huh,” is all Jim can think to say, because he’s staring at the Vulcan--Spock--and wondering what kind of things Vulcans say. 

Jim doesn’t get the chance to talk to Spock until a week after he learns his name. He sees Spock at the library, dutifully reading through a book titled  _ A Historical Encounter of John Adams  _ and he figures he mine as well say hi. They do share a class, after all. And Spock is wearing a sweater, holding a cup of hot tea, and he looks very, very serious, and Jim feels all his insides knot up. 

“Hi. You’re Spock, right?” Jim says. Any sense of eloquence goes out the window when Spock looks to Jim with intense brown eyes. 

“Yes.” 

Right. Vulcans = logical, succinct.

“I’m Jim Kirk, I’m in Professor Dandis’ Starship Design class with you,” Jim says, hoping to get a conversation with Spock. 

“I am aware. Do you need something?” Spock asks, and Jim isn’t sure if he’s being rude or not (he hopes he’s not). 

“Uh, no. I just thought I’d say hello. Introduce myself,” Jim says and nods his head. “Didn’t mean to interrupt you. See you around, Spock.” He scampers away, cringing, hoping he didn’t sound like an asshole. 

 

“I was an asshole, Bones.” Jim’s laying on his stomach on his bed, stuffing his face into his pillow. Bones sits next to him, reading a medical journal. 

“Listen, Jim, I’ve talked to a lot of Vulcans, and they’re all the same: they’ve got 0 social class. If anything, I think this Spock guy was being a jerk to you,” Bones says, not looking up from his work. 

Jim rolls his eyes. “How many is ‘a lot of Vulcans’?” 

“I’ve talked to Spock. He’s a chain link fence in an old country town,” Bones says. “I don’t think he knows enough about humans to even know if you insulted him.”

“He’s half-human, Bones,” Jim says, but Bones is already back in his work. Jim sighs and rolls over. He doesn’t know why it matters this much (he does, though). 

 

The last thing he expects to walk into after a day of PT tests and exams is a beat up Vulcan being treated by the doctor who was just cursing off Vulcans not even a month ago. Jim stops, blinks a few times, then puts his stuff down. He must be  _ really  _ tired.

“Hey, babe,” Jim says slowly and walks into the kitchenette, carefully keeping his eyes on the couch where Spock is sitting and Bones is cleaning up the cuts on his face. He’s 90% sure it’s not figment of his imagination. 

“Jim, can you pass me the peroxide, please,” Bones answers and gestures vaguely in the direction of the breakfast bar. Nope. In his imagination, Bones would’ve at least said ‘hi’. 

“Doctor, this extraneous work is illogical. I am capable of bringing myself to the hospital, or at least locating a replicator,” Spock says. 

“You’re not the kind of guy who brings himself to the hospital, Spock, believe me. Jim, the peroxide, please,” Bones says, and reaches his hand out. 

“Uh, sure,” Jim picks up the bottle and hands it to Bones. Then Jim just kind of stands in the middle of the kitchenette trying to figure out what the hell Spock is doing there and how the hell he got beat up.

It’s not until Bones is done cleaning off Spock’s face and putting bandages on it that he stops and looks at his work (and Spock). “What happened, Spock?” 

“I suppose, Doctor--”

“It’s just Leonard, Spock,” Bones interrupts.

“ _ Leonard,  _ that this was a case of, to put it simply, xenophobia. It is not surprising. As the first Vulcan to attend Starfleet, I had expected as much, and I was missive in not preparing myself--”

“Hold on, Spock, this isn’t your fault,” Jim interrupts, not caring that he’s still very confused--nobody should blame themselves for getting assaulted. 

“Regardless, that was the case,” Spock says. 

“Well, who was it?” Bones asks, crossing his arms, tapping his foot, trying to not explode into anger like he so obviously wants to. 

“I...could not quite tell,” Spock answers. He doesn’t  _ seem  _ physically bothered by this, but something in Spock’s eyes reflects  _ at least  _ annoyance. 

“We’ll walk you back to your apartment,” Jim says, and doesn’t give Spock a chance to argue.

 

Jim walks with Spock to class. He insists. He’s been doing it for two weeks, and Spock hasn’t complained. In fact, he even said, “It’s only logical,” which was high praise from a Vulcan. He’s happy to walk with Spock. He’s happy with Spock in general. 

Which is why he sits down with Bones at dinner at a nice restaurant one night--admittedly, it’s a little too expensive, but they hadn’t gone on a date in a long time (and Jim thought it would be best to ask about  _ this  _ in a semi-public place).  

Bones thinks it’s nice, as far as Jim can tell. When he brings up Spock, Bones doesn’t seem...it’s hard to tell actually. He takes another bite of his food and thinks. Jim hasn’t even gotten to the whole “maybe we should ask him out” bit, but he’s already nervous. Nervous like he can’t eat his food nervous. 

“I think I would like him to be part of this,” Bones says, and gestures to the two of them. “When I was helping him that day...I don’t know, Jim, but I want him to be with us.” 

Jim’s heart lifts like a balloon filled with too much helium. Of course Bones knew. Of course he felt the same way. Jim smiles and takes a bite of his ravioli. 

He didn’t believe in fate, but something in this universe meant for Bones and him to meet. Something meant for the two of them to be written on the same page. 

 

**3.**

Spock has been spending an inordinate amount of time at their apartment (so much that Jim was starting to worry if he actually had his own apartment). 

Jim and Spock are sitting shoulder to shoulder at the breakfast bar, comparing notes from Professor Dandis’ class, with a cup of hot tea in front of each of them. Bones said he would be working late at the hospital. 

“It is illogical for families to be accommodated on Starfleet vessels, besides brief diplomatic ventures. Although the purpose of Starfleet vessels are, for the most part, non-violent and non-confrontational, it is vital to maintain safety for untrained civilians aboard starships. Because the goal of many of these starships is to venture into hostile environments to maintain--” 

Jim is resting his chin in his hand and listening to Spock. Due to Dandis’ offhand and blatantly xenophobic comment about “cross-breeding of species,” Spock had been scouring through everything Dandis had written and all the notes he had given to find a hole significant enough to bring ignominy to his name. They started at nine in the morning. It’s already six in the evening. 

It’s not that Jim’s not happy to see this side of Spock. He is. But he has plans. 

“Hey, Spock,” Jim says. Spock snaps his mouth shut and turns to Jim. “Do you want to go out to get dinner?” 

“I...Yes. That would be agreeable,” Spock says, not willing to ignore his grumbling stomach. It would be, Jim assumes,  _ illogical  _ after all. 

The night is chilly, a low thirty, and Spock is shivering regardless of all the layers he has on. Jim swings an arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer. The place they’re going isn’t too far--it’s a small multi-cultural restaurant that serves  _ really  _ good plomeek soup (according to Spock. Jim hasn’t had the opportunity to try it (Bones told him it’s “bitter as an old woman who’s yarn was eaten by a barn cat” (Jim’s not really sure what he meant, but trusted that it was pretty bitter))). The minute they’re inside, Jim spots Bones in a small booth off the side. It’s private enough. It’s good for what they’re there to do. 

Spock is removing his layers as they walk to the table. “Leonard. I wasn’t aware that you would be here,” he says, not displeased. 

“He texted me. Let me know,” Bones says and leans to give Jim a chaste kiss. “I got off work early.” Jim smiles and sits down across from Bones. Spock slides in next to Bones and Jim mocks offense--nobody even notices.

There are lights strung up on the trees outside. There’s no snow, but a cold mist makes everything outside hazy. Jim stares out the window for a few more seconds before facing Bones and Spock again; they’re talking quietly about Bones’ day-- Jim smiles and leans his chin on his hand. 

Something seems to click in Spock’s mind all of a sudden. “If the two of you would rather spend the evening alone, I will have no problem leaving. In fact, I have more work to do.”

“Actually…” Jim starts, but can’t find it in himself to finish. 

“Stay, Spock. We want you to stay,” Bones says, and Jim silently thanks his boyfriend. 

Spock settles back in. He realizes something’s up now, but doesn’t say anything. Jim can tell something’s shifted, the way Bones leans back to open himself to both of them; Jim feels his stomach fill with warmth and his heart speeds up just a little; and Spock looks much more curious about what’s going on, a slight tilt to his head, an almost-smile playing along his lips. 

He’s in love. He’s not afraid. 

“We want you to stay for a while,” Jim says. “With us. If you want to.” 

Spock almost smiles. Almost. The meaning isn’t lost on him. “It would be illogical to turn down such an endearing offer. And even if it was logical...I believe it would bring the most satisfactory results to not listen to logic.” 

Bones smiles and Jim leans across the table to plant a gentle kiss on Spock’s lips (because he’s been wanting to do that). It’s short and sweet and Spock barely leans in, but he does, enough to let Jim know that he’s there, he’s made the decision to stay. Bones plants a kiss on Spock’s cheek, then reaches out for Jim’s hand

And suddenly, Jim feels a mile in the air--not in a bad way, though. He looks down at the three of them sitting in a small restaurant: the lights are low, the night is cold and hazy. 

He sees himself. Happy. His heart was broken. It was broken five times, five times he thought it would never mend itself again--and admittedly it didn’t. Bones mended it, calloused hands and all, his southern speech flowing into Jim’s mind like refreshing water; Spock mended it, speaking of logic and reason, and coming out with the thought that love was logical, above all things; Spock and Bones. They won’t let his heart break. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! Huge shout out to [akros-artificer](http://akros-artificer.tumblr.com/) for making sure I wrote Gigi respectfully. Also, after I saw their artwork, [this](http://spockfucker.tumblr.com/post/127121528864/spockor-human-spock-with-freckles) is how I imagined Spock. This whole thing mostly jumped from the idea that Jim falls for a lot of people really quickly, which is both heart breaking and extremely true. I wouldn't imagine that Spock and Bones are any different. I hope you all liked this, I really appreciate the reads and if you commented, thank you so much. If you want to leave constructive and helpful criticism, I thank you very much.


End file.
